Fallen Half
by The Assassin's Pen
Summary: Jacob's fondness for the orphans of London may have just robbed Evie of her remaining family. Not only that, if Jacob dies, the Templars will have the leverage they need to overthrow everything the twins built to free London and their father's work will come to nothing. Speculative character story of the Frye twins, Jacob whump, brother/sister care and worry. T to be safe.
1. Broken Wing

It would have been so much easier if there'd been someone to blame.

The Templars. The industrial giants who didn't care enough to check building plans when it saved a few scraps for their splitting pockets. The gangs who used the slums as an arsenal in the first place. Someone. Even Jacob. If she could have blamed Jacob maybe the throbbing pain in her chest would ignite and she wouldn't feel it through her anger.

But there really was no one to blame but her brother's own bleeding heart.

By Altair, she hoped that phrase was only metaphorical.

Evie crept through the wreckage, blinking away tears caused by the acrid smoke still rising in lazy serpents from the blackened rafters. Her fingers burned with each light touch as she navigated deeper and deeper, gasping for a sign of her twin. A cough, a curse, the groaning of a beam as he pressed it heavenward with his strong back, anything at all-just so he remained in his body and wasn't headed heavenward himself. She swallowed and coughed and grit her teeth as she shoved another great beam out of the way once she was certain Jacob wasn't nearby for it to crush.

She was going to find him. She had to find him.

"I'm going to kill you, I hope you know that," she said curtly, hoping he would actually hear her and retort back. There was little venom in her tone. She knew why Jacob had rushed into that doomed building in the first place, and no matter how sick she was about its collapse on top of him she couldn't be angry at him for doing it.

She would have done the same. She just didn't quite _see_ things the way he did.

It was the kids. Jacob had always had a way with them. Ever since they reached independence in the brotherhood Jacob had been using his influence to take extra attention to the orphanages. Boys, girls, shy or bold, small or nearly grown, they all loved him and he spent as much time with them on his shoulders as he did training those shoulders to brace the world so the children could have a childhood.

She played her part from a distance, focused on the job, the bigger picture. She wasn't callous, but she didn't see the children like he did. She couldn't make them light up at a wink or calm with a whisper. She was content to watch how her brother cared for them and keep an eye on his back so he could do so in relative peace.

"Andrew?" she called, hoping the boy Jacob had dove in after was conscious, could help her find the both of them before the flames had a chance to flare again. "Jacob?" She heaved aside a warped support strut and it scared her because the heat must have been intense to bend the metal so violently.

If only she'd been able to get inside quicker, but it was that same heat that had prevented her from entering the wreckage hours ago when it had first happened. She had no idea where Jacob and his young charge had gone

Andrew was a serial run away. He lost his parents at seven and with them the home he and his sister had known their entire lives. No place was home for them any longer, and when his sister died the winter before from a terrible cough Andrew started running. She still remembered the first night Jacob had come back to the den holding a shivering bundle against his shoulder. The boy was fast asleep and soaked to the bone, his fist skinny and white where it was twisted in Jacob's waistcoat. He was wearing Jacob's favorite top hat and Evie only smiled sadly as her brother strode past her with that mix of anger and compassion lighting his hazel eyes.

He'd dried the boy off, wrapped him up in some of his own clothes, and tucked him into his bed, watching over him until dawn as he scraped his methodical way through cleaning and honing every piece of equipment before placing it back on his person. To anyone else he looked relaxed, but Evie could tell he was angry. For the sake of whomever had angered him, she hoped they were already dead.

Andrew had continued to run from almost every orphanage in the city until he was on the street near constantly, and every time Jacob found him again and brought him back to the den where they would talk and he would eventually convince the boy to return to his room at Emanuel's. Normally no harm was done. This time something exceptional must have happened because when Jacob tried to bring Andrew back he had run from him and into an abandoned building in the outer slums of London.

There was no one to care when the powder store kept there by the Rook's rival gang caught Andrew's dropped lantern and decimated half the building. Evie's heart had stopped when the concussion of the explosion threw her back because only moments before her brother had disappeared inside.

The others attracted by the blast had given up on Jacob and Andrew long ago, but Evie had paced and searched, worming her way into the wreckage an inch at a time as it cooled enough to approach, unwilling to comprehend a world where her brother wasn't at her side.

She stepped across the charred dusting that used to be some kind of bedpost and swallowed more ash, blinking furiously as a spew of smoke fouled the air.

 _"_ _Jacob!"_ she called again, coughing harshly, crouching suddenly as part of the building that was still standing creaked ominously. Her only hope was that Jacob had found Andrew and was unconscious or trapped somewhere on the fringe where the heat would only leave him with minor burns and some difficulty breathing. She couldn't stomach the thought that she should be sifting through the wreck for human ash and a warped gauntlet, rather than straining hard for the croak of her brother's voice.

"Miss Frye!"

Her head snapped in the direction of the weak call and she stumbled as she tore her foot free from a thatching of splinters, racing for the voice. "Andrew?!" she called, dropping to her knees in a clearing. It ended abruptly in a precarious pile of beams and shivers, mostly shrapnel from the blast rather than dust from the fire. She found breathing a little easier when she spoke again. "Is Jacob with you? Are you all right?"

There was a gasping little sob and Evie swallowed hard. "Andrew?"

"Sorry Miss Frye…" Andrew said weakly, and she could hear a slow scraping as someone tried to move. "Mr. Frye is here he—he ain't movin'…"

Evie blinked and took a steadying breath through the nose, crouching into the stance that let her peer into the debris and process what Andrew was saying. Not moving did not mean not alive. She nodded slowly, feeling her heart surge with adrenaline even as she kept her body still.

"Don't think about that," she said as firmly and gently as she could. "He's going to be fine. Are you all right?"

There was a sniff and she could sense Andrew collecting himself. "It's hard to breathe, an' my arm hurts but I think so."

"Okay good. That's very good. Be careful with your arm, in case it's broken. Can you see Jacob?"

There was another weak cough and a pause. "Yes ma'am. I'm trapped beneath 'im…"

Evie closed her eyes for a moment, blinking away a tear. Jacob had covered Andrew with his body when the explosion had gone off. She took another breath. "You're doing brilliantly Andrew," she encouraged, swallowing the tremble out of her voice and steeling her muscles. "Do you know how to check for a pulse?"

"Yes, but my arm is trapped, n' I'm on my stomach. E's too heavy for me to turn over…" he said, a tremble of apology in his answer.

"That's all right Andrew, don't try. I don't want you to hurt yourself or cause the beams to fall any further. Just lie still and listen for a moment, can you hear him breathing?"

There was a bout of breathless silence before Andrew called again, his voice laced with fear. "I—I can't tell…Miss Frye there's blood. I've only jus' seen it—I, I think it's Mr. Frye. I think he's bleedin'."

Evie cursed under her breath. "He may have hit his head. I need you to stay calm Andrew, all right?" she said even as everything inside her wanted to break her assassin's calm and start ripping away boards. "I'm going to try and start shifting the pile to get to you. If anything feels heavier, tell me right away. I want you to focus on Jacob, tell me what you can about him. If you can't reach his pulse listen for his breathing, anything you can give me to tell me how he is will really help. Sooner we can wake him up the sooner we can all get out of here," she finished lightly, trying to be encouraging.

"A-all right," Andrew said, and there was a shuffling as the poor boy tried to move beneath her brother's body and the wreckage on top of it. _Him_.

She began picking her way around the pile, assessing it carefully, critically, keeping her breathing precise and her thoughts pointed. She couldn't afford to panic and her training wouldn't let her. Jacob needed her, and that was the end of it.

"E's warm," Andrew said after a moment. "I can feel it through my back. E's real warm."

"Good, that's a good sign. You're doing very well," Evie said, trying to be encouraged though she'd known since she was thirteen how long it took for a body to cool. If Jacob had remained alive for any part of the last few hours the heat wouldn't have had enough time to leave him. She gripped a lose beam and heaved it up, gritting her teeth as she tossed it away. "What else can you tell me?"

"I—"there was a harsh coughing and a gentle groan as Andrew moved again, and this time something in the pile shifted ominously. Another, more distant sound accompanied the settling and Evie froze, spur of wood braced in her hands.

"Andrew?"

"He coughed!" Andrew shouted, his voice elated with relief. "Miss Frye, did you hear 'im? He coughed! Twasn't strong but 'e did, he's alive!"

The relief that flooded Evie tailed her adrenaline and made her shaky. She rested her forehead against her forearm and breathed out. "Oh thank you," she whispered, barely aware of the tears beading at the corner of her eyes. "Thank you."

"Miss Frye?"

She cleared her throat. "I heard you Andrew, that's wonderful news. Just keep still and see if you can wake him, I'll be to both of you in a minute."

"Ay, Miss Frye. I'll try."

She had to smile at Andrew's eager energy. She really was very proud of him for how brave he was being. Not knowing whether he was trapped beneath his friend or a body would have paralyzed most kids, but Andrew kept his head through it. Maybe that's why Jacob had taken to the boy so fast—he was tremendously strong at heart.

"Mr. Frye, can you hear me sir?"

Evie kicked away more debris, keeping an eye on the pile for a threatened collapse. The haphazard stack was holding—for now.

"Miss Frye?" Andrew called after several minutes of quiet work.

"Yes?" she said, standing back to re-evaluate for the next section of clearing, wiping her cheek on her shoulder as she tucked her hair back under her braid.

"I don't think he's going to wake."

She could hear how Andrew was trying very hard not to let his voice tremble. She rolled her shoulders and set into the next section. "He will, just maybe not yet," she said calmly, gasping as dirt and beams suddenly rained down from the remaining roof. She backpedaled, heart in her throat until the dust settled, leaving a new gap in the pile. "Andrew?" She called, scrambling back to her spot. "Are you both alright?"

"I think so," Andrew called, but his voice was strained. "He's gotten heavier—I think something's fallen on 'is back."

Evie cursed quietly, pulling at another beam with a mighty heave. Suddenly it came away and she stepped to the side, letting it drop with a thud. At last there was a window into the wreck and she crouched, waving away settling dust until she could see Andrew a few feet away, and on top of him, his head dusty and bare, was Jacob. He wasn't moving. Both were face down, but Andrew had managed to work one arm free and was holding his head up weakly, peering at Evie.

"Miss Frye!" he said, his smile tinted with worry.

"I'm going to get you both out," Evie assured him, scanning the wreckage on top of Jacob. Sure enough, a beam was pressing hard on Jacob's back, pinning him heavily to the ground and preventing Andrew from getting any further. She studied the pile, noting a solid chunk of rock a few feet away. If she could get Andrew out, the beam would have enough distance to fall and it would rest on the rock, giving Jacob enough leverage to pull himself free.

If they could wake him up.

"Andrew, I have a plan, but you're going to have to get your other arm free. Can you do that?"

He nodded. "I'll certainly try, Miss Frye."

"Good, good boy. I know there's a lot of weight, but you need to press as hard as you can into Jacob's ribs with your elbow. Whatever you have to do, just press hard."

Andrew's brow furrowed in concentration and concern. His teeth grit together and sweat made tracks in the dirt covering his face, but he gave a mighty heave and suddenly Jacob gave a weak cry, jerking as much as their cramped situation would allow. He brought his head up slightly, his fingers tensing against the ground. Andrew's head snapped up.

"I think I hurt him—" he said, his face suddenly pale. "Something moved when I hit 'im…"

 _Broken rib_ , Evie thought faintly, realizing that she could have just killed her brother with her instruction. If that rib dislodged and punctured his lung…she nodded, keeping her face neutral. "It's alright Andrew. Jacob?" she called, wishing she could reach him herself. "Jacob can you hear me?"

Jacob groaned, his fingers twitching again. He let out a strained breath. It was little wonder he'd been unconscious, he could barely draw anything into his pressed lungs. "Evie?"

The elation she felt at hearing her brother's voice again was almost as strong as her relief at finding him alive. "Yes, it's me. You were in an explosion, Andrew is underneath you but he can't get free. You have a beam on your back, and if you can press upward long enough for Andrew to get free the beam will fall and rest on a rock. Then you'll have enough room to breathe and I can help get you out."

Jacob's head turned weakly and she could see him blink in the lowlight, as though processing. He was panting shallowly, unable to do more than that. Andrew's breathing was strained as well, and he was craning his neck back to look at Jacob as best he could.

"Please Mr. Frye, I'm sorry for runnin', if you can just shift a bit I'll pull myself out and you'll be alright—" Andrew's voice sounded more like a prayer than a plea.

Jacob didn't answer, and for a moment he was quiet and still. Evie feared he'd passed out again until he suddenly braced his hands against the ground and pressed up with a mighty heave, a roar of pain ripping from him. Andrew scrabbled free, and a second after he was up Jacob's entire body shuddered and he collapsed along with the rest of the pile. A great cloud of ash and dust filled the air, and when Evie finally stopped coughing and she blinked away the sting her only relief was that she'd been right about the beam. It was resting at a harsh angle against the rock, taking most of the pressure off of Jacob's back.

Andrew was staring down at Jacob, his back still bent harshly to manage the cramped space. "Andrew," Evie beckoned, snapping the boy out of his shock. "Come on lad, crawl on out and I'll go in after Jacob. We can't both fit in that space."

Andrew nodded curtly, and when Evie helped him out through the small space she saw how pale he was, tear tracks and sweat marring the dirt on his face. She took a moment to grip his shoulders encouragingly, catching his attention. "You did brilliantly Andrew, and you have nothing to be sorry for. This wasn't your fault and Jacob is going to be just fine."

He sniffed and nodded, but he couldn't quite meet her eyes. Evie's heart softened and she kissed his forehead, pressing him gently towards the safer outside. "Go on out, run to the corner, make two lefts and knock on the red door. Give this to the man," she said, bowing her head as she took a carved shilling hanging from a cord from around her neck. On one side it was an ordinary coin, on the other the assassin's symbol glinted faintly. "Tell him what's happened and lead him back here. By the time you get here I'll have Jacob free."

Andrew clasped the necklace and nodded, darting away.

Evie watched him go for half a moment before turning back to her brother, who still wasn't moving. She felt a chill in her chest and prayed that her promise to the boy wouldn't be broken.


	2. Barely Breathing

Happy Syndicate day! For those like myself who have to wait another month because we are PC gamers, happy less-than-one-month-until-release-day. This chapter is shorter than I wanted but honestly this little idea of "Lets drop a building on Jacob" is getting out of hand and I don't know where it's going or how long it will go for. But it is still going so there you are. I also wanted to post a chapter to show this story is not dead and what better day than release day. Thank you all who've reviewed, I'm so happy you liked this even if it's probably gonna be OOC non-cannon garbage once I actually play the game. I hope it's not quite that bad, but I am basing the twins' personalities off of very limited info.

Anyway, here's the next chapter. Enjoy despite medical inaccuracies. I don't know much about what British doctors in the 1840s knew, and getting that info is way difficult. Suspension of disbelief is my best friend and I'm very tired and at this point, so if I find something horribly glaring later I'll probably fix it after sleep. Cheers!

* * *

Pulling Jacob free was a long and arduous process. Evie crept into the wreckage, heart pounding with the fear that she'd missed something, that she'd make one wrong move and it would be over for the both of them. Jacob's stillness did not help and she knelt in the dust and reached out a hand to feel his life for herself. His skin was warm when she cupped his cheek and the breath that played over her hand was a grounding balm she'd sorely needed.

She slipped her hand beneath his collar and found the place they'd both been trained to target, witnessing his pulse with tender, almost fearful fingers. Amazing how often she'd driven a knife into that spot without a second thought. She'd even held her blade to Jacob's throat when he'd done something particularly bull headed, but she'd die herself before ever actually piercing him and they both knew it. She closed her eyes and for a moment just allowed herself to take in the warm rush of blood under the prickle of stubble he refused to shave. It was stronger than she'd expected, which made her dare to hope that he wasn't bleeding internally. She tried to ignore the soft wheeze and slow, pained cadence of his breath. A punctured lung would still steal him from her.

"All right, come on. Up you get, you novice," she murmured, employing the phrase she'd used to get him out of bed at dawn countless times for their training. It had worked especially well when he was sixteen and hadn't really begun to fill out with the muscle and dense bone that he so skillfully wielded now. He'd been skinny and insecure with a sparse beard and "novice" got him out of bed and chasing her across rooftops faster than anything. She only wished it still worked on him.

Gripping his shoulders and pulling, she eased him out from under the beam that had been slowly suffocating him. She felt blood slick her fingers but she tensed harder and ignored it, desperate suddenly to get him out in the open. Eventually she managed to get him propped up against her legs. She looped an arm around his upper chest and tugged, getting him free and pulling them both backwards until they were out of the pile. She didn't properly take a cleansing breath until they were on the cobblestones well away from the building and a rare ray of sunlight cast itself across Jacob's body.

"You're going to be okay," she said firmly, peeling away at his coat and unbuckling his belts so she could get beneath the layers and inspect his ribcage. He groaned, a deep, scraping sound as she traced each of his ribs with a firm hand. She paused, searching his face for signs of consciousness.

"Jacob?" she said, hovering above him and cupping his face. "Jacob, come on, open your eyes little brother."

Another jab that used to get him up. If she wanted to throw him during a sparring session all she had to do was remind him that she was six minutes older than he was. He was eighteen before that quit having an effect on him.

He opened his eyes just a little and turned his head, rolling it like he was trying to squirm away from pain but unsure how. She swallowed painfully and stopped his movement with a gentle hand, shaking her head.

"Shh, don't move. Doctor Martin will be here any moment, I've sent Andrew to fetch him. You're going to be alright, despite your best efforts otherwise."

She pat his cheek lightly, trying to catch his gaze even as his breathing worried her. She hadn't finished checking his ribs and now she was afraid to. It wasn't like she could do anything about it if his lungs were punctured. All she'd have was the agonizing experience of watching her own instruction kill her brother. She fisted her hand in his lapel and grit her teeth. That wasn't going to happen. "Jacob, can you tell me who I am?"

He panted, and it sounded almost like he'd tried to laugh. A grimace stole the humor from his eyes. "Forgotten again…sis?" he gasped, gripping her arm so hard it hurt. His skin was paler and his eyes suddenly rolled and before she could try and prevent it he was unconscious again.

She swore quietly and shoved his waistcoat aside, finishing her examination. She was being stupid, letting her connection to her twin stop her from properly helping him. She needed to know where the break was so she could avoid making it worse. The more she knew by the time the doctor arrived, the sooner Jacob would heal.

She focused her attention so much that she had to blink away the uncanny second-sight her order possessed twice. The cracked rib was low on his right side, the two just above it broken completely. They gave sickeningly under her fingers and Jacob groaned pitifully, squirming weakly away from the pain. The good news was that she didn't feel any evidence that the rib was cutting through tissue, only that it wasn't anchored the way it should be. She let herself sigh and removed her coat, draping it across him. She placed a comforting hand in the middle of Jacob's chest, unsure he was anywhere near concious.

"Just breathe as best you can, once you get something for the pain and we wrap you up you'll be back to losing our races in no time." She gripped his bicep good-naturedly, but he showed no sign of hearing her. His breathing rasped in short, shallow sips between his chapped lips. The shilling that he wore around his neck was resting in the hollow of his throat, and Evie found herself hypnotized by the little glint that accompanied every beat of her brother's heart. The coin was twitching with the pulse racing too fast through Jacob's body but somewhere distant Evie found it comforting. At least Jacob still had his pulse.

Her reverie broke by the arrival of Andrew and the doctor.

"Jacob, you foolish bull, what have you done now?" Martin muttered, his voice strained by years and pipe tobacco. He shook his white head as he knelt painfully on the cobblestones and peered at his patient through gold-rimmed spectacles. "He's in shock, it was good thinking covering him with your coat. That may very well have saved his life. He cannot afford to lose any more heat." Martin lifted the coat and brushed aside layers of fabric, his expression grim. "Especially if he's bleeding internally."

Evie felt her adrenaline spike again and she closed her eyes, desperately trying to focus even as her fingers whitened in their grip on Jacob's forearm. She was so distracted she narrowly avoided tripping on of the darts lining his gauntlet. Andrew had knelt across from her some time ago and had his smaller hand hovering over Jacob's shoulder, as though terrified to touch him. Guilt etched itself into the boy's young brow but Evie didn't have the strength to dispel it, not when she was using every ounce to keep her head and focus as she'd been trained.

 _What will I do without him?_ She caught herself thinking, and she shook her head, trying to blur the dark thoughts. _I don't want to finish father's work on my own. He meant it for both of us, we need both of us…I need both of us._

"Is it safe to move him to your home?" she asked, pulling away and doing a cursory sweep of the street with her glance. She was already figuring out the best route, calculating risk and chance and scrutinizing the whispering crowds for hidden Templars.

Martin sighed, and when she looked back he was rubbing his forehead wearily, one of his wrinkled hands resting on Andrew's back in a show of comfort. "It will have to be. Leaving him on these cobblestones will surely kill him."

"Fine then," Evie said curtly, spotting an old piece of canvas and striding for it. "We take him to your practice." She tugged it free and returned, laying it out so she and Martin could rig up a stretcher. The twitch of the coin was almost imperceptible.


	3. Bleeding Pride

Hey guys! Wow, the response I've gotten for this story has just rocked. I appreciate every single review so much, especially the ones that say I nail the twins even though I haven't played the game yet. I did order it today though, so in two weeks I'll get to play as well! I'm so excited. Avoiding spoilers is exhausting. I wanted to apologize for the long wait but I needed to figure some stuff out with this story and I am participating in nanowrimo so my writing energy is distracted. I wanted to post this though because I've got a great idea for where this should go and I'm especially pumped about Syndicate today after ordering the game. (I carried around my Jacob action figure all day. I'm a 22 year old child sometimes.)

Please enjoy this next installment, I'll try to have more for you soon!

* * *

Getting Jacob onto the makeshift stretcher and on his way to the safe-house was the easy part. The hard part was keeping him quiet enough along the way that they could disguise him as a corpse.

Evie knew they were lucky that the explosion had happened in such an off part of town. The downside was that they were away from most people who dared to get involved and help. The upside was that they were away from any significant gang leaders who would recognize them at first glance. With Evie deprived of her coat and fairly disheveled from hauling her brother free she was almost in civilian disguise. Not many knew her face anyway. She preferred stealth and while she and Jacob ran the Rooks together he was better known as their figurehead. He seemed to like it that way, but right then as they carried his makeshift stretcher through the last square it was working against him.

Anyone who recognized Jacob Frye gravely injured and potentially unguarded would spread the news like the plague, and it would only be a matter of time before that information wreaked havoc. Templar assassins would surely come for her and her fallen twin while he was weak, and the Rooks themselves would fall into disorganization without a solid leader. She was more than capable of running the Rooks by herself, but not all the members respected her word as a woman and many of them just flat out liked Jacob. He riled something up in them and put their brawling habits towards a good cause, much as the assassin order had done for him. Without him, the Rooks would quickly tatter, and there simply weren't enough assassins in London to deal with the Templars alone.

"Stop, just a moment," Evie said, "I need to adjust my grip. He's bloody heavy." She nodded towards a grungy alley that was blessedly abandoned. Martian did as she asked and they lay Jacob down out of sight.

The plan was to cover Jacob with a sheet and then Evie, disguised to look like an errand boy and Martian's assistant, would help him carry the 'body' back to Martian's practice. It didn't take much to hide Evie's identity and gender. She borrowed a scarf from Andrew and stole Jacob's eight-point-cap from his coat, pulling it low over her eyes. A doctor and his assistant taking a corpse from the sight of an explosion would raise no questions and it gave them the chance to cover Jacob and keep him from being recognized.

The problem was he was still bleeding from whatever shoulder wound he'd sustained and he was coming back to consciousness, too delirious from pain to understand what was going on. Their 'corpse' had started to groan and tug at the sheet over his head. Evie wasn't taking the chance of getting noticed and Jacob was about to cause quite a scene if he rose from the dead in the middle of the square.

She crouched by him, uncovering his head and stopping him from trying to sit up with a firm hand against his collar, an action that caused him to gasp as blood welled up over her fingers. "Sorry," she whispered, cupping his jaw and forcing him to look at her. "Jacob, do you know where you are and who I am? I need a real answer this time, our work could depend on you understanding me right now," she said seriously, glancing up as a shadow passed them. Andrew had chased the person off by running after begging for coins. Smart boy.

Jacob's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed dryly and blinked. His gaze was glassy with pain but he seemed to understand her. "You're Evie, my sister. I'm…" he hesitated, glancing around. "In a bloody alley?" he said after a moment, shooting her a slightly quizzical glance. He blinked again and something seemed to shift in his eyes, uncharacteristic panic causing him to push against her hand. "Andrew?!"

Evie held him down, shaking her head and putting a hand across his mouth to silence him. She was careful not to impede his breathing more than it already was. "Andrew is safe, he's actually playing lookout right now." She glanced up again, relieved that Andrew's loitering was making people avoid him for fear he was a pickpocket. The fear was valid, he very often was. She lifted her hand from Jacob's mouth as he relaxed beneath her. "You need to be quiet though, you are badly injured and if any of this gets to the Templars our hold on London could become very poorly."

Jacob nodded, pressing his lips together and glancing down at the sheet still covering most of his body. "So that's why we're pretending I'm dead."

"I know stealth isn't your strong suit, but until those ribs heal I need you to work with me," Evie said, lifting the sheet. "The last thing we need is word that the leader of the Rooks is unable to defend himself."

Jacob opened his mouth to protest but Evie clapped a hand over it again. "Don't you dare. You have broken ribs and a moment ago I couldn't wake you. A well placed punch would puncture your lung and that'd be the end." She moved her hand and Jacob grimaced, clearly feeling the punishment from his ribs as he tried to breathe past pain that only got worse _with_ breathing.

"We haven't much time before someone realizes I'm conversing with the corpse," Evie said gently, her tone softening with sympathy. She'd had broken ribs before, and she felt for her twin. "Lay still, breathe as little as possible, and we will be at Martian's shortly."

He closed his eyes, his forehead twisting and his teeth grinding together as he took one last cleansing breath and nodded. Evie nodded back and brushed his jaw with her knuckles before covering his head with the sheet, assured that this time they wouldn't be interrupted.

She straightened, nodded to Martian, and they finished their journey in peace.

 ** _AC_**

Jacob was conscious but white-faced when they finally got him into the back room where he would be safe from prying eyes. The doctor was rushing about collecting supplies and sending Andrew to fetch more, leaving Evie to get Jacob out of his clothes and into the bed. She was more suited to the task anyway, since her training made her significantly stronger than the elderly doctor who worked with them.

"Can you shrug out of your coat or have I got to cut it off you?" Evie said after a few exasperated moments of watching Jacob, now painfully sitting up on his own, trying to get out of his coat. He looked up at her with something like masked horror.

"Don't touch my coat," he snapped defensively, turning his shoulders away even though the movement obviously pained him. "You already took my hat, be content."

She rolled her eyes. "The hat was so I wouldn't be recognized either and you know it," she said, taking the cap off and planting it on his head with an irritated flop. "And I'll do whatever I want to your coat if you don't get it off before you bleed to death." She gestured at his shoulder where a fresh stream was blooming over what was left of his white collar. "Come on, you stubborn ass, it's already got a tear and your blood all over it," she said, reaching for his coat again. "You can get a new coat."

"My blood in my coat, still makes it mine which means you shouldn't be touching it," he said, shimmying it off his shoulders and down his arms with a few rapid pulls that left him holding his side and gasping harshly. The heavy black fabric pooled on the bed behind him and Evie grabbed it and tossed it over the chair.

"Well I hope the pain was worth all that," she said curtly, feeling her anger flare at him. He grimaced weakly and she could tell he regretted his actions.

"We are not repeating that with your vest," she said, pulling out her knife. "So shut your mouth and just hold still."

Jacob was grinding his teeth again and involuntary tears leaked down his cheeks as he tried to breathe. Evie went to his bowed back and split the vest right up his spine, tugging the fabric away when he was able to uncurl enough that it wasn't pinned by his arms. That left him in his white undershirt, parts of which was glued to his skin by his own blood. She pressed her lips together and positioned her knife. If he lifted his arms above his head she was almost certain he would pass out from the pain.

When he was finally bare from head to hip, she nudged his head up and pulled his shoulder gently back, trying to see how bad the torn skin actually was. "You got stabbed in a brawl last week, didn't you?" she asked, brow furrowed.

He pressed his lips together even tighter and wouldn't look at her, a curt nod his only reply.

Evie sighed, frowning at the damaged and shaking her head. "Jacob, we have enough danger dealing with the Templars and their gangs without having you get off on your drunken brawls." She tore a strip of cloth and pressed it into the wound, able now to see the ragged edges of the stitches he'd popped. That's what had caused the bleeding, so at least she knew there wasn't something lodged in his shoulder.

"I wasn't drunk!" Jacob defended, his fingers digging into his own thigh as the pain from speaking bore into him. "I was dealing with an incident between two Rooks and the Templars took advantage."

Evie glanced at him and they briefly met eyes. "All right," she said softly, pulling away the bloody cloth. Jacob's shoulder relaxed a little under her fingers and she knew he heard the apology in her tone.

"I'm not actually that stupid, sis," he said wearily. "Despite my record I don't enjoy getting injured."

Her lips quirked sadly and she reached for some alcohol standing nearby. Jacob braced himself without her warning and she poured it into the wound. "You're going to have to stop flirting with death before I believe that."

"Oh come on," he said, his smile pale but genuine. "Don't pretend a lecture. You leap off buildings too." He paused to breathe, closing his eyes briefly and pressing a hand gingerly to his side where heavy bruising was discoloring his skin.

"We're assassins, sister," he said finally, cracking one eye open to look at her. "Death is our ally."

"Not yours," she whispered.


	4. Bruised Books

Hi guys! New chapter for you all, and I've got nasty plans for the next one so hold onto your top hats. I've finally gotten to play the game some myself, and while I'm barely into the beginning sequences I'm loving every moment. The story has, therefore, adjusted a little bit in this and the following chapters to include what I now know about the twins. Spoilers for the game may be present, though nothing major and I will warn you. This chapter partially came about because I wanted to get a new one up and because I was really delighted with Jacob's bird tattoo. I don't really know if it's a kestrel, but that's what it looked like to me so head-cannon locked.

* * *

She knew death too intimately not to see its signs, and they were settling on Jacob one by one like the falling leaves of autumn.

She'd had to leave him for three days to keep up appearances, and though she got word daily from the assassins in disguise constantly on guard around Martian's practice, she didn't dare dwell on the true gravity of Jacob's condition until she returned to him late on the third night.

Silent and smooth in her movements, Evie slipped across Martian's roof, dropping into his open window like a shadow. The assassin who was keeping watch over the old doctor's study nodded to her respectfully and then slipped out. She closed the window behind him and lit a candle before shifting her hood down and composing herself. If Jacob was awake she didn't want him to see the situation written all over her face. If only they could go home, but Martian wouldn't be able to look after Jacob properly on the train and taking him back to their hideout where even his closest Rooks would see the situation would only make things infinitely worse.

The Rooks were holding, but only just. She'd had to go from location to location sending people on missions, retrieving information, planning their next move. The Rooks had to keep going as though nothing was wrong, and that meant that Evie was using every trick in her arsenal to evade the truth.

Lying to the new recruits was easy, since in their minds Jacob was tantamount to a legend. It wasn't strange at all to them that he should suddenly disappear on important business. For the more seasoned members though, the ones Jacob laughed and joked with, the ones who he trusted with the major details, they knew better.

She crept into the next room; a hidden alcove just off of Martian's bedroom that he used specifically for hiding his assassin patients. When she entered, she was surprised to find Andrew there, sitting by her brother's bed and wringing a cloth out in the basin set on the nightstand.

She stood there, silent and observing and Andrew was so focused on his task that he didn't realize she was there. He squeezed the last of the water from the rag and then wiped it tenderly across Jacob's brow, smoothing back his sweat-slick hair. Her contacts had told her Jacob developed a fever, but no-one warned her that it was this bad. Jacob was soundly unconscious and flushed, skin that wasn't bandaged glistening with sweat. The shilling at his throat had fallen to rest against his windpipe, and from where she was standing she couldn't make out much more than weak breaths in the lamplight.

Slowly, carefully, Andrew folded the rag and wet it again, laying it across Jacob's collarbones this time. He made like he was going to continue but all at once he seemed to lose his resolve and his head bowed, soft sobs escaping him as he leaned carefully against Jacob's broken body.

Evie's first instinct was to go to the boy and comfort him, but she was frozen. How long had Jacob looked this poorly that spirited Andrew was this scared? The orphan was one of the bravest little souls she'd ever met, and he was weeping over Jacob like he was losing his father all over again.

Jacob, oh so brash on the surface and yet so tender with Andrew, didn't stir no matter how the boy sobbed. He was still. Completely still, and with the way Andrew was bent she couldn't watch his chest to see if it rose with breath.

For a terrifying moment Evie feared Jacob had just died in front of her, and she almost rushed to shove Andrew out of the way. The way Andrew suddenly quieted stopped her, and she held her breath as the lad turned his head and lay it ever so carefully against Jacob's chest. He lay quiet with his ear just below the kestrel's beak for several long moments, his eyes closed and his hand resting on Jacob's arm. It was only then that Evie was able to breathe again and the horrible tension went out of her frame.

Andrew was listening to Jacob's heart, which meant it continued to beat. There was life flowing inside him yet.

She slunk back and out of the room, sagging back against the door frame and feeling very tired all of the sudden. The days of running back and forth across London and pretending everything was fine were tearing her down and she was suddenly extra grateful that Henry had boldly taken on their field work solo for the moment. Jacob took precedence in her heart, but she couldn't help feeling that she was letting her father down every day that she wasn't working towards the piece of Eden.

She put her head in her hands and sniffed, wiping away the tears that had started to flow without her really realizing it. She slid to the floor and drew her knees up, feeling suddenly very cold and hollow. Her work normally filled her, her brother normally backed her despite their differences. She had to admit his Rooks were working, but she didn't want to leave the fate of London in the hands of the gang alone. Gangs could turn. A back up plan was important.

Jacob was important.

She pressed her forehead into her forearm and let herself cry softly, hearing their father's voice in the back of her mind. He'd been strict, he'd been passionate about their work. He'd seen the assassin order as a necessity, a duty, a privilege, and a way to protect them both. It was no secret when they were born, and so the best he could do for them was to trust and train them to grow into effective fighters who could defend themselves and push back at the Templars who would certainly try to take advantage. He'd built them both to protect themselves and to protect others, but if he had been there she knew he'd be out there looking for the piece of Eden. There was really nothing she could do for Jacob by being there. Nothing at all.

But their father wasn't there, and as much as she respected his vision and tried to carry it she wasn't him. She got wearily up, wiping her eyes and trying to blink back exhaustion.

"It's an infection, combined with the loss of blood and the difficulty breathing. That's why he's so weak."

She turned, surprised that she hadn't heard Martian approach. She cleared her throat and tried to compose herself but she knew it was too late. He'd seen her red eyes by the light of the candle he was carrying. His eyes were filled with a sad sympathy. He turned to look in on his patient.

Evie moved to the doorway as well, only to see that Andrew had fallen asleep tending to her brother. His head was still on Jacob's chest and though Evie felt for the boy Martian's comment about difficulty breathing came to her and she pressed her lips together, her brow furrowed as she crept in and very gently scooped Andrew up. She carried him into the next room and tucked him in.

"What are his chances?" she asked when she came back to the sickroom and closed the door. She was unable to completely erase the tremble from her tone as she watched Martian inspect the flush of angry skin around Jacob's shoulder injury.

"I've cleaned the wound and done all I can to aid his breathing, but the ribs make it difficult and I don't know how deep the infection was before it had the chance to flare. I took this—" he held up a splinter of metal "out of the wound. It's little wonder he tore the stitches and continued to bleed when he was buried, this was still inside him and it prevented proper healing which allowed infection to set in. He had been trying to heal around it—but with the kind of physical strain you both put on your bodies it was slowly tearing the muscle with every major motion. Now there's the fever and I fear the infection has allowed him to contract a flu."

The diagnosis chilled Evie to her very core and she sat heavily next to Jacob, taking his hand and staring down at his skin, so sickly pale next to the inflammation from his ribs and shoulder. "You bloody, blind idiot!" she cursed softly, blinking away angry tears. She gripped his hand a little harder and ground her teeth, trying to think, trying to decide what she could do.

"He's holding strong for now," Martian said gently, resting his hand on her shoulder. "He can still breathe and Andrew's been doing splendidly keeping his temperature down, but what worries me is this lethargic state that will not allow him to take food or water. I was able to get him to swallow some water yesterday, but he's had very little today and the last time I attempted he nearly breathed it in. If he has another coughing fit like that I fear dislodging his broken rib and puncturing his lung."

Evie felt light headed, processing the information the doctor was giving her. "He won't wake at all?" she asked finally, looking up at Martian, who was now sitting across from her on Jacob's bad side, gently changing bandages and checking his ribs.

"He does, but the fever has made him delirious and he will not take food. When I convinced him to take water he drank very little." Martian hesitated, and his expression was so sad Evie wanted to shake him, to make him just spit out the truth because if Jacob was going to die she'd rather know.

"What is it?" she pressed.

"Evie, he's growing weaker. He sleeps longer each day and his fever will not break. If he continues like this he will pass from dehydration within another day or two."

An odd calm came over Evie then, and she just looked at Jacob, reaching out a hand to stroke his face. She ran her thumb across his cheekbone, so like their father's, and gently smoothed his sideburns down with her knuckle. She stared into his face and raised her other hand to stroke his hair.

"Miss Frye?" Martian said hesitantly after several minutes, but she didn't look up at him.

"Thank you doctor, I'll stay with him till dawn."

She herd Martian hesitate, but eventually he got up, bid her a quiet goodnight, and shut the door behind him.

By the light of the candle Evie kept her vigil. She rest her hand on his and leaned against the mattress, tracing his kestrel tattoo with her finger. The flesh was uncomfortably warm and she swallowed, thinking about why he'd chosen to get it.

"It's a bird of prey, Evie. I thought you'd appreciate the nod back to our assassin heritage. Altair and all them," he said, waving a hand and then pulling his shirt over his head.

"But why that bird—there's eagles and hawks, why get it at all?" she asked. "Our heritage is in our blood, in our training. You don't need to prove it with ink."

"Why wear the assassin symbol then, if it's in our blood?" he challenged, but no matter how she pressed he wouldn't properly answer her about the kestrel.

It wasn't until later, when she was filing their library that the bird of prey book caught her eye and she took it down. It fell open naturally to a page that had been unceremoniously folded over, and through her cursing Jacob and his disrespect she paused. The image of a kestrel was drawn in careful ink, along with a short description. She had to smile then, because it was little wonder that he was being defensive.

 _Kestrel_ , it read. _The smallest known bird of prey the kestrel is never the less a skilled flier and effective hunter, striking its targets with a pinpoint accuracy._

Not only had Jacob taken the time to pick up and read a book, he had then gone and gotten a tattoo of a bird that he and his relatively short frame identified with. She chuckled lightly, smoothing out the page he'd damaged. He wasn't short, not really, and he'd gotten the tattoo over muscle that was quickly filling in his eighteen year old frame, but he'd always been a bit insecure about his stature as compared with the other assassins and the other boys who got into fistfights on the streets. Evie supposed she could relate—she was never taken seriously simply because of her gender. In a way that gave her an advantage. She was usually on top of whoever was screwing with her before they knew what hit them. Jacob—well, Jacob didn't want underestimation he wanted respect.

"You have it now, little brother," she whispered, resting her hand on his tattoo and smiling sadly. "And look where it's got us. Half of London respects you, half of it fears you, and all of it will fall without you."

* * *

Jacob will be awake in the next chapter, promise. Whether or not he will be lucid is another matter.


	5. Brother's Blade

This story ran away from me. Far away. Also I fixed some things in chapter four about their dad, since I got a better picture of him after playing further into the game. (I'm into sequence seven now).

* * *

Evie was gone for another two days when she received word that Jacob had woken up. She didn't bother to hide her composure this time since it was Henry who delivered the news. She all but collapsed against the other assassin, the release of tension so powerful that she was too relieved to be properly embarrassed.

When Henry had come running up to her from the train's library car she feared a whole host of things—that Jacob was dead, that the Rooks had lost significant territory, that the Templars had started a new assault while she was busy chasing after a piece of Eden that was determined to stay out of her reach. Good news, no matter how unstable was a turn she wasn't prepared for.

"Miss Frye," Henry said, alarmed as he steadied her. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, yes I am," she said quickly, pulling away and composing herself. She hadn't really fallen into his arms or anything, she'd just swayed and used his shoulder for support. She had hardly slept and she was aching from muscle strain. The zip lines were fast but she was still unused to them and her shoulders were knotted badly. "I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Green. Thank you for the news."

"Can I accompany you back to the train?" he asked, his hand hovering by her arm as though wanting to help her walk. She pretended not to notice it. "We have much to discuss, I'm afraid. And—if I may be so bold as to offer my services, I believe I can help you with your pain."

"Yes—thank you Henry," she said, walking with him and trying to prepare herself for whatever he was going to tell her. Something in her gut, something she'd learned long ago not to ignore, was bothering her and she knew Jacob waking up was not all positive.

Back in the privacy of Evie's car on their train, she dared to shed her coat and outer robes, leaving her in her trousers, vest and blouse. She sat wearily on the bed and Henry stood nervously by the door, his hands clasped together in front of him as though waiting for her signal.

"It's all right, Mr. Green. I trust you," she assured him, patting the spot on the bed next to her. "Your honor is safe, I promise," she teased, smiling wearily.

Henry's smile back was tinted with worry, but he sat beside her, placing his hands on her shoulders and working his fingers gently into the aching muscle there. Many assassins learned basic massage simply because knots, swelling, and strain were all common as kills in their work. His hands were unusually warm and Evie closed her eyes, the heat and the pressure bliss against her knotted shoulders.

"The gangs are beginning to figure out that Jacob is not simply gone. Just in my brief travels between study locations and the train I've been hearing murmurs, and even in a city large as this one you know how fast word can spread. They are not used to seeing you so often, and so seeing Jacob not at all…" he paused, working his way down her back.

Evie dropped her head and breathed intentionally. "What else is it, Henry?" she asked, turning to look over her shoulder at him. He continued to work on her back and he wouldn't look up. "I know there is something else."

"Jacob is awake and his fever broke so it is not the flu, but he has a very difficult time keeping food down. He's still losing strength, Evie." Henry finally looked up and met her eyes, and she felt something in her chest crumble a little at the news.

"He's dying," she said finally, the numbness taking her voice. There was a dead sound to her tone, as though she was saying it but didn't fully feel what it meant.

Henry grimaced and placed his hand on Evie's forearm. "Yes, Miss Frye. Unless he can keep down more liquid and food, he will not be strong enough to recover. As it is he has already lost weight, weight he cannot really afford to lose."

Evie bent her head and hid it in her hand, quiet tears leaking from her eyes as she tried to process. Any weight Jacob was losing was muscle, something that could be just as much a death sentence as his injuries were. They were assassins—their lifestyles didn't allow them to carry much fat on their bodies, and normally a lack of fat was not a problem. They were fortunate and had plenty of access to good food. In this case that meant all his body had to run itself on was the conditioning he needed.

Even if Jacob did come out of this sickness his combat strength would be greatly inhibited and there was no way he would, or even could, take the time to build himself back up. Weakness would crush his Rooks as surely as his death would. His career as an assassin was over either way and with it his life. For Jacob to give up his place as the Rook's head and an active member of the Assassin order would be for him to give up part of his soul. He was a vital, active spirit. Being confined to research work would crush him and sooner rather than later he would get into a fight that would end with a blade in his back.

"Miss Frye?" Henry's voice was timid and worried, and that concern broke the last of her resolve. She curled into his chest and wound her fingers into the white and gold of his tunic, burying her head in his shoulder. He started, but presently she felt him settle his arms around her.

They remained that way until the train reached south London.

Henry offered to come with her, but Evie didn't want anyone there when she saw her twin's condition. She conversed quietly with the doctor, but she was alone when she climbed the stairs and slipped into his room. She swallowed, a pang shooting through her chest as she saw Jacob's condition.

He was indeed awake and sitting up, but he was leaning against the headboard and his skin was too pale. His weight loss wasn't noticeable yet, but he simply did not look healthy. His eyes were closed and his hands were settled limply in his lap, but when she closed the door he opened his eyes and smiled wearily.

"Hey, sis. Thought you'd taken advantage, declared yourself an only child."

She huffed a weak laugh and moved to sit on the bed by his legs. "I was sorely tempted, but some of your Rooks are missing you. I don't think they'd believe me if I claimed you were just a figment."

He chuckled and it ended in a cough that stole any remaining color from his skin. His breathing was wet and weak, and the way his eyelids flickered told her he was holding onto consciousness almost as tightly as he was gripping his bandaged side.

His skin glistened with sweat, and Evie leaned over, pressing her hand to his cheek. He was warm but she didn't think his fever was coming back. "Jacob, we need to talk," she said when he slumped back, exhausted and panting unevenly. His shoulder didn't look much better, and she felt a stab of sickness in her gut. His eyelids flickered but he blinked a few times and his gaze settled on her.

"How are my Rooks?"

She sighed, settling her hand on top of his where it was resting on his thigh. "They're holding for now, but several have figured out what's going on. Jacob, they don't respect me, and I can't force them. Without you, the Rooks will fall apart, and we simply don't have enough assassins in London to keep the territory we have."

Jacob listened quietly, his lips pressed together for a long time. Eventually he nodded. "You don't think I'm going to recover," he said finally.

Evie gripped his hand and shook her head. "You will, I'm not saying that—but we need something for now. Something to keep what we have until we get a new plan."

Jacob was looking at their hands, and slowly he turned his over, closing his fingers around Evie's. "Evie," he said quietly, turning her hand to lace their fingers "I can't do much more than sleep right now," he admitted. "My Rooks will keep on for a while on their own, use them as long as you can, but you're right. I'm not going to recover quickly enough to keep my place as their leader."

Evie couldn't believe what she was hearing. She'd been expecting him to fight her, that she'd have to threaten and pressure him just to get back into the bed. She figured she'd have to convince him of his true condition and knock him out to save his life. He was being far too calm. He needed to fight her, if he wasn't fighting her he was worse than they thought. "Jacob, no. We need your Rooks."

He raised his eyebrows and smiled, giving her a look. She rolled her eyes.

"Yes, I said it. You've done a ridiculous amount of damage, but in the middle of it Templars are dead and children are going home instead of getting their fingers crushed in presses. I still think we need to look for pieces of Eden, but at this point your Rooks are a vital part of our defense."

"I'm not going to be able to lead them right now. There's nothing we can do about that—you're still looking for the piece of Eden which means you still believe it's out there. If you think it is, then I trust you. Take Henry, use my Rooks for backup, and finish what we started."

Evie pulled her hand away then, getting up and turning away from him. She folded her arms, trying to get the sudden flood of emotions under control. "We aren't close enough," she bit out. "We've been looking for months. I don't even know if it can do what the files think it can." She turned back to look at her brother. "Jacob, we can't do this alone."

Jacob swallowed, and she could sense something uncertain rallying inside him. "Evie…I spoke with Martian," he said slowly. "I know my condition. I can't keep food down. My fever is gone, but we don't know for how long. He's struggling to get the medicine—" he shook his head. "If I fight this off on my own I'll be weak. I won't have the strength to challenge the rest of the Blighters, let alone Starrick. We need a new leader for the Rooks."

"They don't want anyone but you!" Evie exclaimed, throwing her hands up. "Don't you understand? The piece of Eden is out of my reach and the Rooks are dying without you!"

"Not if I die first!" Jacob shouted, and that stopped Evie point blank. He was trembling, his face was white and his hands were fisted in the sheets, but his eyes were clear. "Not if I'm…killed…first," he amended.

Ice shot through Evie's veins. "Jacob, what are you saying?"

He closed his eyes, his shattered breathing striking through him painfully as he gathered himself. "Thomas Wick. He's one of my head Rooks and he joined me not because he was part of the old gangs but because his sister was an assassin. She died trying to bring Starrick down, and when he realized who we were he became one of my most trusted men." He looked up at her. "He can lead the Rooks, but I have to die first. The Blighters have to kill me, because if I die a martyr I'll still be the Rook's head in spirit. They will fight in my name. Nothing will tear them apart and Thomas will continue to help you until London is free."

Evie swallowed, going back to Jacob's bed and sitting down. "Jacob, you're going to live through this. You just need to rest—"

He shook his head. "Evie, we don't have any other options, and if we wait for this to kill me it'll be obvious the Blighters weren't responsible. By the time this takes me I'll be skin and bones and washed out color." He gripped her hand and for a moment his earnest fever returned some life to his skin. Their eyes locked and even though tears were pooling in hers she couldn't look away. She could sense what was coming because it was logical. It was logical and barbaric and she wouldn't consider it for a second. "Evie, you have to do it yourself. If I'm not ready to get out there and fake it in the next few days, you have to take your blade and finish me proper."

She shook her head, pulling away from him even as he gripped harder on her wrist to keep her there. "No, no Jacob this is not a plan, I would never—I can't—"

"We're backed into a corner!" He took her other hand and pulled her to sit again, and she complied because he was using strength he shouldn't be wasting just to make her listen. "You have to be able to use me as a rallying point. We can't lose what we've accomplished."

"Dad wouldn't—"

"This isn't about Dad!" His hands gripped her wrists almost painfully and she felt the tears run hot down her cheeks. "This is about Andrew, and the children and the people and the fact that this is bigger than either of us. We are so close to giving this city back to her people, and we cannot let anything compromise that." He softened and lifted a trembling hand to her cheek. His voice was gentle, but she could sense the fear he was hiding. "I don't want to die. I don't want to die and I'm not ready to die." He shook his head and swallowed, one tear striking down his pale cheek to catch the gold of the lamp. "But I can't proclaim myself a leader and then not be ready to lay everything down for my cause."

She was trembling, shaking her head, pressing her lips together to hold back the collapse that was threatening. She pulled her wrist free to cup his cheek and he leaned into it. The sensation of his heat behind the rough patch of stubble at his jaw was one she would never forget for the rest of her days. "Jacob, I don't want to do this without you."

"But you can," he said, his voice choked up as he drew their foreheads together. "You can and you will. You've always been the strong one. The smart one. You and Henry will take this town by storm and establish it for the people who deserve to live here." He pulled back just enough to look her in the eye, a rough thumb brushing away her tears. "I love you, Evie. I have all my faith in you. That's why I'm asking you to do this. I could do it myself, or have Henry, but I don't—" he swallowed, his breathing catching on a sob he tried to suppress. "I don't want to die alone."

"You won't," Evie spat, anger suddenly taking over her shock. She turned her hands to grip his forearms. "Do you hear me Jacob Frye? You won't die alone, and you won't die this soon. Death may be our ally, but your death is not."

"Evie," he tried, his brow knit together.

"No!" She gripped his forearms tighter and forced him to look into her anger. "I won't be the one to take your life. I don't have another solution right now but by heaven I'll find one, and you will get your strength back and come back me on it."

She pulled away, and the look of loss and despair that flickered in his eyes was not enough to bring her back. It made her heart ache, but him giving up hurt far more. She turned to go to the door but just as her hand was on the frame his quiet sound of pain stopped her. She didn't dare look back at him, but for a moment she listened to his breathing and felt the poison of comparison overwhelm her control. She'd heard that kind of breathing before. She'd been the one to cause that broken rhythm. They both had.

"Just…promise me you'll make it quick?"

Evie tore out of the room and didn't pause even when she knocked hard into Henry where he'd been waiting for her by the door. She ran. She ran and she didn't stop until she collapsed.


	6. Bane Fall

Hallo! Wow a lot has changed. I started this fic before I even saw the first chapter of the game and now I've finished it and half spoiled myself through the DLC. What a stunning game I'm in love. Side note, I changed Martain's name to Martin, since that's what I meant in the first place. Ugh. I'll fix the previous chapters later maybe. Sorry about that.

* * *

Jacob stood stock still, staring ahead. His back was tense and his hands were balled into fists. His hidden blade was intact but he refused to activate it. His chest rose and fell in unsteady breaths, and when Evie circled around behind him he closed his jaw tight and swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing as his eyes fluttered shut.

Evie looked down at the curved metal of the eagle's beak in her hand, and she smoothed her fingers over the bronzed point, pulling it free. She dropped the rest of the cane and took one step forward, staring at the back of her brother's head. She lay her hand on his shoulder and felt the muscle there twitch and harden. His warmth suffused the fibers of the thin shirt he was wearing, and she wondered vaguely what had happened to his coat. His hat was gone as well, and she reached up a hand to touch the feather-soft strands of hair curling at the nape of his neck. He bowed his head and shivered, and when her fingers came away they were damp with a cold sweat. He wouldn't look at her, but he wouldn't run from her either.

She turned the dagger from the cane sword in her hand, adjusting her grip with a methodical turn of her wrist. Her hand slowly ran down his left arm, pausing at his elbow to press into the flesh exposed by his rolled up sleeve. His pulse was pounding hard and scared, but still he wouldn't look at her. She touched the back of his knuckles, lacing their fingers momentarily and running her thumb over the polished silver that housed his hidden blade. She tugged on his hand, urging him to kneel. Slowly, his movements halting, he did, and she knelt behind him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, leaning her head on his shoulder, pressing her temple into the side of his neck. She felt him draw a last breath against her, and she positioned the dagger just under his ribs, to the left of his spine. Nothing stood between her blade and his fluttering heart. She braced her hand against his shoulder to keep him from jerking away, and with one swift stroke upwards she buried the sword to its hilt. He gave a strangled cry and arched his back, but the wound was sound and fatal.

Evie knew her trade well, and Jacob fell limp into her arms as she withdrew the blade. The blood ran down her fingers and began to chill her skin, even though it was still warm. She dropped her blade from numbing fingers and wrapped her arms around Jacob's chest, pulling him tight against her. His eyes were still open as his head fell back against her shoulder, and she looked into them as the light died.

"Evie," a voice pleaded, strain and even fear depriving it of strength. "Evie, please."

Evie blinked rapidly, forcing the tears that were obscuring her vision to fall and soak into the tunic of the man she was pinning to the harsh ground. It took her several long moments to realize that the man below her wasn't her brother, but her partner.

"Henry?" she rasped, realizing only then that he was staring up at her in _fear_. Her right hand was clenched in his tunic, her left splayed back, the blade pressing harshly into Henry's throat. Her eyes went wide and she jerked the blade back, retracting it with a rasp. She clapped her hand to Henry's throat, terrified that the blood she'd seen trickling was far more than a mere scratch. She held tight to him, unable to pull her hand away and see the real damage.

"Evie, Evie it's only a scratch," Henry said, and she realized he'd been trying to talk to her for a long time. He had to have been—only desperation and intense worry would drive him to talk to her so informally. It was always Miss Frye. What had she looked like, what did she look like now to garner an "Evie?"

His hand was gripping her upper arm and he was laying very still, his worried eyes boring up into her. Flashes of her fevered hallucination came back to her and she trembled, pulling her hand slowly away. Henry nodded, encouraging her as she locked her blade and curled forward, burying her face in his shoulder. She was straddling him and he was flat on his back on the night chilled surface of a tin roof. She didn't remember getting there, didn't remember passing out—she didn't know if her nightmare vision had been a nightmare or a hallucination or—

She tensed hard and Henry's hand squeezed her shoulder, his other arm wrapping strong around her waist. Buried against his chest she could feel his heart pounding hard against her own, and she knew then that she'd very nearly killed him. He'd been frightened. Of her. She felt sick.

"Jacob's alive," he assured, as though knowing in part what she was thinking. "He—he told me everything," he added quietly, and when Evie finally had the strength to pull away and get off of him he didn't look upset or any of the other negative things she'd expected. He looked sympathetic and deeply worried for her. She turned away. She'd attacked Henry. She'd nearly killed him. She'd lost every scrap of cool and almost destroyed their best ally in the process. She'd nearly destroyed _her_ best ally. Despite her father's warnings she could feel herself growing more and more attached to the other assassin, and the unbridled horror she felt at the thought that she might have killed him forced her to face it. It was more than the natural revulsion at taking a life.

"Evie, I know you're not alright, so I won't ask, but will you talk to me?" Henry said gently, and she could sense him coming slowly up behind her right before his warm hand settled on her shoulder. She sniffed and turned red eyes on him, nodding wordlessly. She turned around, but avoided locking their gazes for too long.

"Come back to Martin. We need to include Jacob in this discussion."

Evie felt everything inside her recoil at that statement and she shook her head, backing away. "No, he's delirious he can't make decisions."

"And I won't let him," Henry said firmly. "Of course we aren't going to sacrifice him for this. His life is far too important. Miss Frye, I don't agree with him and will not dare to lay a finger, but I do think his plan has merit. Please," he said, placing his hand on his chest. "Hear me out. That is all I ask."

Slowly, she nodded, tightening her gauntlet and straightening her robes, suddenly flustered by her disjointed, unpresentable state. Henry caught her fluttering hands gently between his own and then locked their gazes.

"Evie," he said softly, and she'd never heard such tenderness in her life. "You needn't patch yourself together. This is your brother. You share his blood, and even though you fight like sparrows at times his breath may as well be your own. Just because you are an assassin does not mean you must perpetually guard your heart."

Evie didn't have the strength to fight anymore, and with that admission of permission something inside her broke. This time it wasn't her angry defense, or her panicked running. This time it was just release, a final breaking down of her assassin's training that she'd had up since the explosion first happened. For a moment she allowed herself to really grieve for her twin. She hugged Henry tight and cried without restraint, the foggy sunrise touching their shoulders as she hid her face from everything in his warm shoulder.

Henry held her back and waited until she'd cried herself out.

They made it back to the practice an hour later, and Evie realized with a flush how far Henry had had to go to find her after her outburst. He made no mention however, and on their way back he purchased a fresh roll and block of cheese from a baker, pressing them into her hands before she could say anything at all. He kept patient pace with her as she ate and walked, and for once she didn't care that doing so was less that civilized. She used to scold Jacob for not taking the time to sit down and take a meal properly.

Martin's didn't look quite so grim in the daylight, but Evie's stomach still knotted up when they approached and she regretted eating. Henry touched her forearm gently and she gave him a weak smile.

"We will work this out. There are options."

 _Like what_? Went through her head, but she only nodded and went inside.

Jacob was dozing when she got to his room but he started awake at the sound of her footfalls. She recognized that kind of sleep—he'd been on alert. She hadn't thought he'd ever quite managed to master the technique, but apparently against all her eye rolling and her father's frustration he had.

His expression hurt her, the way his dark eyes fixed on her and his brows drew together. "Evie," he rasped, and she shook her head to silence him. She took the time to pour him a glass of water and compose herself. When she turned back to him her expression was determined. She handed him the water and sat on the edge of his bed, watching him drink it gingerly down. He didn't manage much.

"We are going to work this out," she said evenly. "And we will not use your life to do it." Jacob ducked his head and grimaced, setting the glass to the side and pressing a hand against his injury.

"That is final," Evie continued. "So what options do we have?"

"Poison." Henry had his arms folded and he was leaning against the door frame.

"Poison," Evie repeated, deadpan. She'd heard of poisons that created a state of mimicked death, but they were incredibly dangerous and in Jacob's condition they _would_ kill him. "I don't follow."

"Jacob's condition, if we spin it correctly, could be attributed to poison. We know from the investigations Jacob has been conducting that the Blighters have been smuggling crates of illegal chemicals and drugs into the city. At least a few shipments were poison, correct?" he asked, gesturing to Jacob. Jacob nodded.

"Several were," he confirmed.

Henry was getting excited then, his explanation picking up as he pushed away from the wall and began using his hands to talk. "From what I've observed of the gang's behavior they have a set of codes. Rather than just sabotaging the opposing leader of a certain district, the leaders send each other challenges and settle things out in the open hand to hand, on the streets. I've witnessed Jacob's correspondence while filing in the train library," he admitted, looking a little sheepish. Evie shot Jacob a disapproving look but he shrugged his shoulders and raised his eyebrows.

"It's the way the game works, Evie."

"And there is our advantage," Henry continued, pointing to Jacob triumphantly. "We take Jacob out, let a few people see him. Plant a rumor that a young Blighter managed to poison the leader of the Rooks. I'll wager that several headstrong recruits who want to prove themselves will claim credit for the attack without thinking of the implications. Such an underhanded blow against us will be seen as a violation of gang honor and incite the Rooks against them. It won't matter if the Blighters deny it, once the rumor is planted it will work the same way Jacob's death would have, only the Rooks will have Jacob behind them at the same time."

Jacob's eyebrows went up and he sat up a little straighter, understanding giving him temporary vigor. "Surviving a poisoning won't just make the Blighters look bad, it'll make me look invincible," he said. "They managed to poison me, but couldn't kill me, even cheating. Evie," he said, and the relief in his voice made her want to cry all over again. "This could work!"

Henry nodded, stepping forward in his excitement. "We execute this correctly and Jacob will not only increase his reputation as the Rook's head, but he will attract more followers and be able to command them while recovering. He'll have the time and the room to gain his strength back properly."

Evie nodded, processing slowly. "What are the chances that this could backfire, make them instead think that Jacob isn't quite as untouchable as he seems? What if this changes the rules?"

"It won't," Jacob asserted. "Gang wars are all about displays of power. Underhanded work, fighting in the shadows, that's all the coward's way. There's no real show of power in that. If someone wanted to be a hero they would have challenged me personally and killed me that way. On the other side of things, which is more impressive, never having been wounded or the scar that proves something fatal wasn't?"

She pressed her lips together and glanced between the two men. "We will have to be sure there is a guard ready in the shadows. Not enough for Jacob to look like he needs protecting, but enough that he has protection."

Henry ducked his head. "Of course."

"Tell Thomas," Jacob said, his expression calculating. "We can trust him with the real plan, and he can in turn pick a few Rooks we can trust to act as an invisible guard."

"I can also be nearby," Henry volunteered, and Evie felt her heart swell for him. "Should something go wrong I can help Jacob make a quick escape."

"And I will be at his side. I've been there for several of the territory claims," Evie said. "Once you're strong enough to make this stand, we will perform it and then get you to the train. You'll recover better in your own bed where we can keep your location mobile."

"I'll take the time to draw up extra plans and contact Thomas," Henry volunteered. "I knew his sister, if he's half the strategist she was he will be a valuable asset."

"He is, thank you Henry," Jacob said, a genuine smile crossing his lips as the Indian assassin nodded back and then slipped out.

Jacob rest back against his pillows, the relief painfully evident in his posture. He looked like he was actually resting this time. Evie's heart panged and she got up, stroking her thumb across his cheek. "Get some sleep, try to take some more water," she said, moving to pull away and follow Henry out for the planning process. Now that they had a plan, she felt an urge to go through with it. The sooner this was over the sooner Jacob could really focus on healing. He caught her hand, giving her pause.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't think of anything else," he said, his eyes pleading. "I couldn't stand the thought that I might die and it would come to nothing, that all we've done, all the Rooks and assassins that have died would come to nothing."

She pressed her lips together and turned her hand to clasp his. A million things went through her head but she didn't say any of them. Instead, she leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to his forehead. He leaned into her touch, his fingers tightening on her hand. "Father may not have understood you as he should, but I am proud of you," she said softly. When she pulled away he had his head bowed and his eyes squeezed shut. He tried to turn his head and dash away a tear, but she saw it anyway. She gave his hand another supportive squeeze and moved to go.

"You need sleep as well," he said, not quite letting go yet. "Please Evie, we have a plan now. Isn't that what you wanted?" She met his eyes and smiled a little, knowing he was right. "Stay and rest."

Slowly, she nodded. She went around to the other side of the bed and took her boots and then coat off, laying gingerly down next to her brother. It took her a moment of consideration, but eventually she slipped her gauntlet off as well, setting the lethal blade on the table nearby. Because of his broken ribs she couldn't cuddle into him like they had when they were small, but she got close anyway, resting her head next to his and wrapping her hand gently around the crook of his arm. She let him use her free arm as a pillow and curled in on her side. Her fingers pressed lightly into the soft flesh inside his elbow and she sighed shakily when his pulse beat back. Her eyes were closed so she didn't see him move, but just before she fell asleep she felt the scratch of his stubble as he bent his head and kissed her cheek.


End file.
